


Bliss

by DWilde1891



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 11 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5377550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DWilde1891/pseuds/DWilde1891
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bliss. That’s what they’d said, Amara’s ‘victims’. Len by accident, Sydney deliberately and it had resonated with him. What that meant. Why when he looked into her eyes he couldn’t follow through, take his knife and bury it in her heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bliss

Bliss. That’s what they’d said, Amara’s ‘victims’. Len by accident, Sydney deliberately and it had resonated with him. What that meant. Why when he looked into her eyes he couldn’t follow through, take his knife and bury it in her heart.

Not as though a demon killing knife would make a mark on God’s sister, but that was hardly the point.

Any other monster he wouldn’t have hesitated. The only reason Crowley continued to be a nuisance he couldn’t do without anymore was because in the early days he always had something. Leverage that ensured he had to be kept alive just that little bit longer. At some point it became habit, until Dean was alone, desperate, and he’d been lured to the Mark. Death, demon and darkness following.

Since he was old enough to hold a shotgun he’d never been afraid of the dark. Not really. If it moved you killed it, that was what dad taught, and it was a lesson he’d stuck to for as long as could he could remember. They were hunters, the dark was where they lived, or that shadow on the edges where almost anything goes. It was liberating moving between or beyond what the world knew. It’s own stray kind of safety where if you expected the worst it would come, and you could handle it.

That’s what it was about her, he supposed.

Strong, rebellious, and certain of herself. What she believed in. And Dean knew following would lead him straight into something worse than damnation.

It was a familiar sensation.

Sam hadn’t asked questions because it was a waste of time, he knew why Amara had walked out unharmed, why the promise of oblivion at her side was more alluring than the shit show of a life they’d let play out over the last eleven years. Longer than that. From the moment Dean had caught sight of his little brother’s slim, beautiful limbs and otherworldly promise, knowing he had to have it. Couldn’t stop himself from taking it when Sam had come to him one night, drunk, a little vulnerable and so breathtakingly beautiful he still couldn’t recall the moment between breathing and kissing. The two were the same to him, they always had been.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Sam and Cas were in the library. Sam was sitting on the table, legs spread wide and Cas was almost standing between them. Their expressions were light, and relaxed. Cas threw him a bemused look, the aggressive tone clearly unexpected. Sam simply sipped from his beer and let Cas field this one.

“Talking.” blue eyes flickered with confusion, “Sam wished to know my view on Walter White’s descent into darkness.”

“You gotta get up close and personal for that?” he demanded, gesturing to the marked lack of anything like space between them.

“Dean-” Cas looked helplessly towards Sam who flicked a look in his direction before shifting forward, one hand on Cas’s shoulder as he moved him aside.

“It’s nothing.” and he slunk away, not sparing another glance for either of them. Through the war room and no doubt towards one of the store rooms Dean hadn’t even accounted for yet. Dean might have been the one that wanted to call this place home, but Sam was the one that knew it inside out. Whatever secrets he’d found he hadn’t shared yet, no doubt waiting for the time Dean turned on him again, or Cas. Paranoia was the same thing as being called Winchester. Traps were laid throughout the bunker. Holy water, salt and a range of herbs that could take out a range of supernatural enemies. Dean knew about some of them, the rest Sam hadn’t bothered to share.

“Dean.”

He glanced up at Cas who was gazing at him, confused, more than a little hurt, “What?”

“You’re jealous of my intimacy with your brother.” he stated it almost by accident.

Dean blinked, rage and jealously slicking through his veins, “That what’s been happening behind my back?”

Cas peered at him, “What are you talking about?”

All of a sudden he longed for it again, the First Blade, safe in his fist as he tore Cas apart for even thinking about touching Sam, “I’m talking about you banging my brother!”

Cas ran a hand through his hair and it looked like he was almost on the verge of laughter, nervous, and edged, but it was there, “I don’t-”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.” he shot out, “Don’t tell me you’ve never done it. I can tell.”

Cas’ face hardened, only a little, and that steel celestial spine Dean had once almost torn out came back into play, “Are you accusing me of having sex with Sam?”

“Are you telling me you aren’t?”

Cas remained silent and Dean felt a surge of violence, followed by a desperate longing to not feel anything anymore. Sam and Cas were his family. They deserved to be happy. Fuck knows they were on the same page more and more these days. Introspective, loyal, needing to do the right thing. If everything was in the order it was supposed to be he’d support it. Them. But they weren’t. Because Dean had fucked and been fucked by both of them at one point. Sometimes there was an overlap. Yeah it was selfish, but he couldn’t bear the thought of them building something without him. As much as he didn’t even want to be here any more.

“You can just say it.” he growled, “I don’t need nothin’ sugar coatin’.”

“I broke the wall in Sam’s head.” Cas stated, as though that made any sense, “Almost two centuries of torture at the hands of Michael and Lucifer.”

Dean expected more, “Your point?”

“Have you forgotten that?”

“What?”

Dean could hardly breath. As though there was a single moment of that year or those following that he could forget. He would never recover from watching Sam jump into the pit. That one look, of love and regret as he wrestled Lucifer out of control destroyed himself for the sake of everything. It broke him completely. Dean-Dean had never recovered from that loss, not even now he had Sam back.

“Sam doesn’t wear his scars like you do.” Cas explained, his voice softer, more placating, “But that doesn’t mean they aren’t there Dean.”

As far as he was concerned that made no sense, “What’s that got to do with my brother fuckin' you?” Cas blinked, raised a mild eyebrow but Dean didn’t feel the need to elaborate. Sam was good at a lot of things. Decoding ancient texts was one, wielding that beast between his legs and fucking people within an inch of their life with it was another.

“It has everything to do with it.” Cas’ eyes flared fiercely, “You went to hell Dean, and you’ve decided ever since that it’s where you belong. Sam-” he paused, as though he had to get his thoughts under control, “he doesn’t give in that easily.”

“Sam’s an addict.” he snapped.

“Sam broke God’s edict to save you from yourself.” Cas snapped.

“I had The Mark of Cain!” Dean cried, “It-” some of it was him, but, “most of it wasn’t me.”

“You gave in.” Cas said softly, with so little judgement it took his breath away, “I understand, but-”

Sam wouldn’t. There was no point finishing that sentence. Even when Sam jumped into hell, even when he walked arm in arm with Death, Sam wasn’t giving up. He was just-Dean didn’t know, didn’t really understand. Anything Sam did without him didn’t make sense. All he knew is that it wasn’t about bowing down under the weight and looking for something else to take all the pain away. That wasn’t Sam’s thing, it was Dean’s.

“I don’t care. I just don’t like you lyin’ to me.”

“There’s nothing to lie about!”

“So you haven’t been sleeping together?”

“And if we had-what would it matter?” Cas burst out, “You haven’t been here Dean, not for a long time, and we have.” he rubbed his face, as though trying to work out what he really meant, “I was trained to view your brother as the enemy. I gave you solace away from the relationship I knew Ruby was manipulating because our goals, ultimately, were the same and I was so wrong I can’t even think where to begin. I-” his voice was fraught with pain, “I look back and all I can think about is how much it destroyed you. Our bond, our trust, and Sam-he was just another tool. Something I used to slow you down!” there was a glassy sheen to his eyes, “All I wanted was your forgiveness and he was the one I destroyed. Think about that Dean.”

“There’s nothing to think about!”

Cas was his friend, his angel. They were closer. It made perfect sense that Cas’ debt to him would be greater, and yeah, he may have made a small point about his growing social circle to Sam-I-got-a-free-ride-to-Stanford-and-a-super-hot-girlfriend-Winchester but it was only meant with the smallest bit of malice.

So Dean needed people. Cas, hot chicks, Amara. It didn’t matter because not one of them could cast a shadow on Sam. His entire life was about ensuring no one looked too closely at his little brother. That way no one could take him away. Of course Cas had suddenly decided after all these years to break the mould.

“Would you let us?” Cas asked instead.

“Let you what?”

“Say we have been sleeping together. Would you let us try?”

Dean didn't answer, of course he wouldn't, it was stupid to ask and he watched the heartbreak in Cas’ eyes dispassionately. Rather than drag this dumb conversation out any further he collected a bottle of whiskey and headed to the firing range. Shooting things always made him feel better.

\--

Then Sam was mysteriously gone for four days. Cas was in his room, not talking to him, on another Netflix binge and he was left to haunt the bunker looking for leads like some unfriendly ghost in his own home. There were calls, texts, he shouted at Cas to go find Sam for all the good it did.

“If he was in trouble he’d call.” Cas said, his voice tense as he tried to strain around Dean for a view of the tv.

“What if he can't call?” he was trying very hard not to shout, but it was a close thing. The fact that Cas was clearly as worried, and hiding it, was the only thing holding him back.

“Then he would pray.” Cas flicked a glance at him, and there was something uncharacteristically resentful in his expression, “You should trust him Dean.”

Balling his hand into a fist, Dean spun around and stormed out before he wound up doing something stupid, like taking on Cas without the mojo of the mark.

When Sam returned he was in the garage, giving Baby another tune up with a six pack of beer. If Sam was in trouble his girl would need to get him there as fast as she could. The sound of an unfamiliar engine and the cranking of the garage door drew him out of the usual meditative calm that came with fixing up cars.

Eyebrows raised, he watched a seventies Harley in oil black ease into a place beside an ancient Porsche as though it’d always been there. Long legs swinging round, Sam pulled off a helmet and shook out his ridiculous mane of hair. Black jeans, boots and a fitted leather jacket.

“Been busy?” Dean didn't even try to pretend that he wasn't pissed off, a little drunk, and more than a lot horny as he took in the way his little brother’s long fingers rested on her flank. Yeah the bike was definitely another her.

“Hey.” Sam smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes, he looked like he was bracing for something.

“Wanna tell me where the hell you’ve been?”

Sam sighed and walked around him, deeper into the bunker, “Honestly, not right now.”

“Sam!” he snapped, pursuing him through the cold hallways.

"Can I shower first at least?” he asked but it wasn't really a question. Looking closer Sam seemed tired, and a little beat up, and not exactly elated. Wherever he’d been it wasn't on a solo hunt, this was something else. Knowing their luck it was something worse.

“Ten minutes and then you’re explaining all this to me.” he pointed at the black, the leather, and couldn't resist a leer. Fuck his baby brother was hot.

Ignoring it all together Sam headed to the shower room. Dean finished his beer and headed towards the library. Cas was already there, settled over a heavy tome and making notes too important to glance up from. Until Sam arrived, of course. Dean watched as light filled those beautiful blues, observing something more tempered in Sam’s expression but no less real. Dean raised his eyebrows and without saying anything Sam tossed a small pouch on the table, skidding it across the polished surface.

Snatching it up, Dean tugged it open, then upturned the contents. Each ring clattering heavy on the table.

“What the hell is this?”

“Only way we can stop Amara.” Sam slipped his hands in his pockets, “You can deny it all you want but we don’t have a better plan. We have no plan. This is it.”

Dean’s nostrils flared with anger and he fired a look at Cas, “You know about this?”

“No.” Cas looked queasy, “You can’t go back Sam.” he looked at Dean, “But we can.”

Sam peered at them both, before shaking his head, “Lucifer would tear you apart.”

“Like he spent two hundred years doing to you?” Dean demanded, furious that Sam was even thinking this was an option, putting him back in the hole where he was the Devil’s plaything, “That’s bullshit and it’s not happening.”

Dean gathered the rings and pouch from the table and strode away. Sam was walking back into the Cage over his dead body.

\--

They hunted, didn’t talk about it and if Sam was anyone else but Sam, Dean would think it over. No more discussion, but it wasn’t as easy as that. Amara showed up and the promise of oblivion kept him dumb, tame, while Sam made the hard decisions for both of them, again, trying to save Dean from himself.

When it was over, Amara on her merry way doing who the hell knows what with a town full of dead people behind her, Sam beaten up, disapproving and all seeing, something snapped. Down deep and shattered because he didn’t want her. Didn’t need that bliss when he’d had it once. When Sam has looked at him like he was the sun, the moon and all the shadows in between. A gift he’d always been unworthy of and squandered out of spite and self loathing more than anything else.

“Will you say something? Please?” he demanded as they drifted off the highway towards home.

“You made out with God’s sister.” he shrugged, “What do you want me to say? That I think she’s a bit old for you?”

_That you’re jealous. Disappointed. Anything._

“Have you been fucking Cas?” he shot out instead, hands tight on the steering wheel and trying not to flinch at the reflection of bright light in the wing mirrors.

“Because of course that’s what this is about.” Sam muttered, slouching further down in his seat and running a hand through his stupid sexy hair and staring out the window.

Thoroughly fucked off now, Dean slammed both his hands against the wheel and snapped, “Sam! Have you been fucking Cas!?”

“Once or twice.” he turned and looked Dean full in the face, “But I put a stop to it.”

Dean peered at him, “What? Why?”

Sam just threw him a bitchy look and rolled his eyes, “Why the hell do you think Dean?”

Just about sick of questions he didn’t know the answer to, Dean turned up the music and powered them back home, fast as his Baby could take them. What he wanted was a drink, a fuck, something to burn away the taint of Amara from his skin.

Sam headed inside and Dean, lost to which impulse mattered more, acted on the one that made most sense. Slamming the glass aside he chased Sam down and said before he could stop it, “You aren’t fighting for me this time.”

Sam, busy unpacking, turned with a shirt hanging loose from his fingertips and peered at him, looking baffled, hurt, and tired, “What?”

“Amara.” he moistened his lips, not sure where he was going with this, not now Sam was finally looking at him, “I don’t-she isn’t what I want.”

“No?” there it was, at last, a spark of light that made his entire body heat, “Well you could have fooled me.”

Dean rubbed his face, “I’ve done stuff Sammy and she is-”

“She is the reason you became a Knight of Hell and left me.” Sam’s voice was hard, growling as he tossed the shirt aside, “Lucifer and Cain. The legacy speaks for itself and you-” he sneered, “you just go chasing after her like a hound.”

“It isn’t like that!” he had to shout, because he had to make Sam listen and understand, just this once, “All that shit she promises-the lure-it’s fake. An illusion, because I’m nothing to her. An insect. Less than an insect.” Sam crossed his arms, eyebrows raised, clearly waiting for something better and tried, “Just-I get it now. All the stuff you went through and I was an ass man.”

A ghost of a smile, “It wasn’t your fault Dean.”

“I was just the good little soldier dad raised me to be.” he hated the bitterness that lined his throat, “But you went down a dark road and I chased you there. Didn’t even think about what it was like, why you were doin’ it but,” he thought about the First Blade, recalled the sensation of all that power, unbeatable, unstoppable, “I get it now. I do.”

Sam took a breath and ran his fingers through his hair, “Man after everything we’ve been through, all the shit we’ve done to keep each other here whether we like it or not I just-”

“Just what?”

“I always thought you’d wanna go out with a bang.” that half smile again, some sadness, “Dean Winchester, only going down if he takes as many evil sonsofabitches as he can down with him.” Dean flashed a grin, glad they finally agreed on something until Sam had to ruin it by carrying on talking, “Not-fading away. Becoming the bitch boy of one supernatural entity after another.”

“I am no one’s bitch!” he pointed in his face.

“Crowley, Cain, Amara.” Sam counted them off his fingers.

“I killed Cain!”

“What about Crowley?” Sam raised an eyebrow, “You have one summer of love and that’s it?”

“You dumped me!” Dean wasn’t sure what was supposed to come out of his mouth but it sure as hell wasn’t that. Unfortunately it wasn’t enough to slow Sam down now he was on a roll.

“You shoved an angel in me like some fucked up celestial jack in a box!” Sam shouted, “And lied about it-for months!”

“Because you were an idiot and tried to kill yourself!”

“In penance for all the shit things I’d ever done to you!” Sam took a breath, which turned into a huff of laughter, “Christ we’re a mess.”

That Dean could wholeheartedly agree with. Rubbing his jaw with one hand, he let the past play out in his head. All the highlights. Cold Oak. Stepping down off the Rack. Sam taking him apart with just his lips and his dick the summer before leaving them for Stanford. That jump into the Pit. Pretending he could play normal as his brother was flayed for eternity by the goddamn Devil. Fuck he was a hypocrite. Weak, selfish. Loving Sam was the only good thing about him and he couldn’t even get that right.

“I don’t know what else to do.” Sam was suddenly there, in his space, looming and all consuming, “I have tried everything I can think of to convince you that you’re not damned, but it’s just not taking and-” he sighed, reached out, one huge palm resting against Dean’s neck, fingers curling along the nape of his neck, thumb loose and resting beneath the bow of his lips, “I’m not giving up Dean, I’m just regrouping.”

Regrouping. Yeah, Dean could deal with that. If his hormones weren’t suddenly going haywire. Man it had been too long since they were this close and it threw him each and every time. Sam’s stupid heat, stupid hair, stupid eyes and stupidly cut body. More than a few trips around the proverbial block and Dean still hadn’t found anyone to close hitting that mark.

“I don’t want her.” Dean’s voice was raw, trembling as he tried to make sense of what was going on beyond the rich blur of Sam’s changing eyes, “I want what we used to have.” this was it, the big confession, “That’s what I feel when she’s around.”

Sam smiled then, warm, dimples gouging deep in his cheeks as he swept Dean up into a kiss that poured heat down his throat. Last time they’d touched like this was way back before the Trials. Dean’d been too mean and stubborn to let Sam in after Purgatory, even as it destroyed them. That was dumb. Doing anything that kept them apart was dumb.

Unable to help himself Dean jumped up and smashed out a delighted breath as Sam caught him. Lips, tongue and teeth on every inch of flesh as Sam turned round and carried him back towards the bed. Roughly dumped as they pragmatically tore their own clothes away. It was quicker than fooling around with undressing each other, and they were both too old now to waste time that could be better applied elsewhere. Like Sam’s mouth devouring his while one long finger slipped hot and dry between his ass cheeks.

Hissing, Dean smacked Sam’s nearest bicep, “You used to be a gentleman.”

“I used to be a lot of things.” Sam’s teeth bit down at the edge of his nipple and Dean’s body gave suddenly in response, “I don’t bother with the bullshit so much these days.”

There was a dark glitter in his eyes that made Dean shiver. Back during the demon blood days they’d had the most fucked up, hot sex of Dean’s life. As a demon Dean hadn’t been all that different. Impulsive and brutal, swept up with the tide. Sammy was a different kind of animal. Purposeful, dominant and way more kinky than anyone with that smile had any right to be. Once he’d dried out Sam went out of his way to be different, got softer, let Dean take the reins in some sort of fucked up apology. Seems he’d made peace now, figured out how it should really be and Dean didn’t even pretend he wasn’t desperate for it when Sam spun him onto his front and buried his tongue deep in his ass.

“Holy fuck!” Dean shouted and Sam moaned like he’d been the one starving for it. The shudder of vibration from that deep voice skidded along his perineum and along his cock. It was too much already. Held on his knees, Dean reached out to grip himself and alleviate the pleasure already near to bursting only for Sam to reach out and grasp his wrist.

“Don’t you dare.” he growled, before spitting on Dean’s hole and shoving two fingers in deep and grinding up against his prostate with savage precision, “Wanted this for too fucking long Dean.”

“Then-God-fuck-” Dean forgot what he was saying when Sam’s tongue joined his fingers, short circuited by Sam’s hot body, the unerring certainty of his brother's desire now that he’d finally gotten what he wanted, “Sammy!”

“You’re nowhere near stretched enough Dean.” Sam’s lips were suddenly at his neck, the fat head of his cock brushing against the crack of his ass, “You forgot how big I am?”

“No.”

No one ever forgot the first time Sam speared them open, and it wasn’t like Dean had anything to be ashamed about in that department, no way jose, “God no.” it brushed, caught and Dean released a throaty groan that it was so close, and he needed it so bad, “Want you to make me choke on it Sammy.”

Sam bit down and Dean arched beneath his weight, held down, and desperate. One hand on his hip, the other arm wrapped across his chest, Sam shoved in and pushed Dean down in one smooth move. It was so seamless and strong Dean felt like he could come then and there, if he wasn’t so blown away by the rich throb and burn of being with Sam all over again just like this.

“Oh baby.” he was hot, and blind, trembling all over, “Fuck Sammy.”

“That’s the plan Dean.” and he started to move, a slow, endless drag of his dick in and out that made Dean a mess of need and sensation. Fuck knows what was coming out of his mouth. There might have been an ode or two to Sam’s dick in there between the curses and blessings. It didn’t matter because the moment Sam gripped his dick it was all over. A scalding hot orgasm crashed over him, bright and endless as Sam shoved into him hard, determined, before collapsing with a choked off, “Fuck-” hot come splashing against his insides.

The room seemed too cool on his damp skin, silence ringing around them as they breathed. Dean rolled onto his side, dug his chin hard into Sam’s neck and growled, “Done regrouping?”

Sam was flushed pink and gold, sweat glistening along his insane body, hair dank and messy, “Dunno.” he cocked an eyebrow, “You done trying to get out of being human?”

“Being human sucks.” he rested his teeth against Sam’s skin, “It’s easy when you’re a demon. It’s just power and killing. No ties, no feelings, no consequences.”

“I would have found a way to take the Mark from you.” Sam said, his voice certain as though this was a plan he’d already worked out, “Then bled you human again.” he sighed, “Maybe I should have done that.”

“Why didn’t you?” Dean licked the tattoo on Sam’s skin as an arm tugged him ever closer.

“Because I’ve had Lucifer in my head.” he murmured, “Because last time I got close to demon I would have done anything to keep you.”

Dean bit his lip, rested his forehead against Sam’s chest and understood the point. Sure he’d made trouble when he’d gone darkside, but he didn’t really have much of a plan beyond staying out of Crowley’s grip and having all the fun he’d ever wanted. Sam was always more ambitious than that, never did anything for the sake of it. If the Mark had met the remnants of Azazel’s blood, Dean wouldn’t have been human for long. He’d have begged for a different type of oblivion and Sam, with less morals to care about the hows or whys would have done it.

They would have set the world on fire and fucked senseless on the remains of their enemies.

“Will you hate me if I say that sounds awesome.” it went against everything they’d been raised to believe but he didn’t care. This was Sam. He’d get it.

“No.” Sam nosed his hair, long fingers resting along the base of his spine, “But then what?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I go dark to stop you from going dark. You go dark to stop me from going dark. At some point we both give it all up and start heading down the highway to Hell. We kill Crowley, take Heaven and then what? Just sit around waiting for someone else to kill us like all the other supernatural sonsabitches we’ve taken out over the years?” he kissed Dean’s hair, “Either way it ends the same way. Bloody and pointless.”

Dean rolled that round in his head, “You don’t know that.”

“No, and I don’t want to know it.” he rolled them over, Dean falling lightly against the pillows, “How long have we spent around demons Dean? Yeah it’s easy, and yeah they have their own twisted sort of loyalty but it’s nothing like this.” he pressed his lips against Dean’s, a chaste press of warmth, promise and love neither of them felt any particular need to name, “I’d want to possess you, own you, let everyone in creation know you belong to me. That I belong to you.”

“Sammy-”

“Which they already know.” Sam cut across him, “We have nothing left to prove.”

Dean sighed and let his eyes roll up to the ceiling, away from the certainty burning in Sam’s eyes, “I’m going to fuck up, somehow.”

“'To err is human.'” Sam muttered, kissing him again before adding, “Now get over it.” with another peck on Dean’s lips he rolled out of bed and grabbed a pair of sweatpants off the floor and nothing else, “I’m starving.”

Dean opened his mouth and watched in disbelief as his brother swaggered away, calling a sharp, “Dean!” over his shoulder from somewhere down the hallway.

“Alright I’m coming!” he shouted back.

By the time he reached the kitchen Sam was already busy fiddling with pasta as he chatted with Cas. There was no way to disguise what had just happened. Cas shot him a long, appraising glare.

_Don’t fuck this up. I won’t hold back a second time._

Dean nodded a little, getting the message loud and clear, not like he needed the reminder. Amara might have been God’s sister but she was nothing on Sam. His dumb, stubborn, gorgeous little brother who had torn open the universe to save him. This was a last chance, it had to be, and he promised that he wouldn’t fuck up again. Give Cas the opportunity to swoop in and take Sam from him.

The world would be in ruins before he allowed that to happen.


End file.
